It Began with a Crush

It wouldn’t have been every woman’s ambition or choice, but it had been hers, and it hadn’t happened.

Heading back toward the office after saying good-night to Daisy, she remembered the early days with Alex, twelve years ago, when she’d begun thinking about marriage. She’d been twenty-two years old when they got together, and twenty-three when she’d decided that he was The One.

She had thought that he would propose pretty soon—the relationship had felt serious to her, important and good and what she was looking for—and she would be married at twenty-four. Maybe wait a couple of years, then have a baby at twenty-six or twenty-seven. She would easily fit in six by the time she was in her late thirties. Six seemed like a good number, enough to fill an eight-seater minivan.

She’d seen herself as a mix of earth mother and soccer mom, the kind of mother that other women looked at with respect, with the kind of kids who were happy and well adjusted and passionate about the things they loved.

She’d thought that she would cook and bake, grow her own vegetables, make her home beautiful with hand-crafted pieces and lovingly restored antiques, take her kids to music lessons and sports, read to them every night. She’d seen wife, mother and homemaker as an important and interesting career that would absorb and fulfill and challenge her at every turn.

“I don’t know how you do it with that many!” everyone would have said. And she would have had some wise, earthy reply. “You just have to stay organized and keep your sense of humor.” Or, “I picked the right father for them. That was at least half of it.”

But of course Alex hadn’t been the right father. He hadn’t been the right anything.

He hadn’t proposed on schedule, and eventually she was the one who’d brought it up. “Alex, do you see us getting married anytime soon?”

He’d told her there was no hurry. Weren’t they happy the way they were? They had plenty of time, why not live a little before they got serious? And then he’d distracted her with shared travel plans for a trip to Cancún, which she’d interpreted as a sign of commitment.

A year later, when she’d turned twenty-six and had at one point a few years earlier thought she might already have been a mom by then, she’d tried again. What about kids? Did he want kids?

When the time was right, he’d told her. There was no hurry, was there? She had another seven or eight years before she had to start worrying about her biological clock, right? Why settle down now, when they were having so much fun?

Yes, but she would never be able to fit in six kids if she didn’t have the first of them until she was in her mid-thirties! It just wouldn’t work!

Of course she hadn’t shared this objection with Alex. She didn’t want to scare him off with talk of a big family. Maybe they didn’t need to have six, she’d decided. Four would do. Or even three, if he really felt strongly about it.

More time had passed. She was approaching thirty and they still weren’t formally engaged. Sometimes she’d wondered if he loved her at all, because he would get distant and distracted, but if she challenged him on it and they fought, he would draw her back in with a romantic gesture and an apology. Flowers, jewelry—he’d been very good at all those easy gestures.

But then a month away from her thirtieth birthday, they’d had a huge fight and before it could get to the gesture-and-apology phase, she’d hit him with a point-blank question. Were they getting married, or not?

Not.

She could still remember the words he’d used.

“Let’s be honest. It’s never really been headed in that direction, has it?” he’d said, all friendly and matter-of-fact about it, acting as if they’d always both been on the same page and she’d never thought it was a serious relationship, either. As if they’d never discussed it, or children, before. But they had! He’d fobbed her off, let her think a whole lot of things that weren’t true.

Lied to her.

She’d been so shocked. She’d told him it was over—had thrown the announcement in his face like a bucket of icy water, and then she’d waited for him to come crawling back. Waited six weeks, before she’d realized it wasn’t going to happen.

Less than a year later—and maybe this was the thing that had hurt the worst—she heard that he’d married someone else. She could so easily have gone stalkerish at that point, obsessively looking for evidence that Alex and his new bride had begun seeing each other while he was still involved with Mary Jane herself.

But she hadn’t done that, and this gave her some pride. She hadn’t done anything wrongheaded at all.

Once she’d known the relationship was really over, she’d been very firm with herself about moving on. She traveled twice every year, when Spruce Bay was closed for its off-season breaks. She kept herself fit and active, well-read and well-informed. She looked after her body and her mind. She worked to make Spruce Bay the best place it could be. She kept up her friendships, and a good relationship with her sisters and mother and father, now retired in South Carolina. She lived her life as fully as she could, even though it was totally different from the life she’d wanted and planned.